Incomplete Anger
by Late Papers
Summary: The two tearstained faces gazed into each other, each judging the other.  One would expect that normal children would break apart and not be able to stare at each other so seriously.  But the two were enclosed in their own bubble of melodrama. R&R, please


**A/N-**Hokay...

This story...has switched point of view several times, was partially written at summer camp, and is yet another glaring example of how teen angst affects me. I lack the ability to write happy things.

When I first started this, I figured I'd have it finished in a page of so and now it looks like it could have chapters.

But...I'll prolly never add to it. I've got writers block on this.

Working on some original stuff right now, and...it appears I'm just having an enormous artistic block as no matter how many ideas I have for that story, I can't write it.

Anyway, just bear in mind this probably won't ever be continued. Just wanted to post something.

**Disclaimer:** I own none of the Death Note characters. If I did, do you think I'd be on the computer right now?

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"I WILL HATE YOU FOREVER!" The girl's shriek felt like it could be heard for miles. She was 8 and tear tracks were visible shiny and bright through the other grime on her face, her blonde hair a messy golden halo around her head.

The boy couldn't look at her.

Their sister didn't even glance up from her book.

"FOREVER, MAIL! I MEAN IT!"

The three had been in this room for hours now, all the adults passing by seemed intent on ignoring the scene between the siblings inside. The younger girl had been raging for nearly an hour now, the boy had withdrawn so far inside himself that he was only just hearing her screams.

"You as good as killed them you bastard." The girl half-sobbed, it seemed like she would say more, but she suddenly stopped like she was controlling tears. The boy registered the silence and was pulled out of himself by the feeling of her absolute desolation filling the room.

"Melody-"he murmured, reaching a hand toward his sister's hunched back.

She only ran to their older sister's side, who had finally looked up. Their sister, Anna, was 15 and very tall. Mail and Melody were dwarfed by her, though both were tall for their age. Her eyes were black and her hair fell in strawberry blonde curtains around her pale and vicious face. Anna took her sister into her arms, dropping, her book to the floor, "It's all your fault they're gone," she hissed, "They loved me. They adored Melody, but they never loved you; did you know that, Mail? And you're so mellow about them being gone..."

She placed Melody on her chair and stood, her book forgotten on the floor at her feet, "They always regretted their third-born...mother wanted rid of you, but father wanted to keep his son. No matter how useless-" she was cut off; he had hit her-hard-across the face. There's only so much blame one 11-year-old can take.

The girl held her cheek and looked down at the figure of the boy, every inch of which was now tense with rage. His eyes held her prisoner as he said very quietly fists trembling, "Anna, shut up."

His command wasn't necessary; it seemed that shock at his retaliation had silenced her automatically.

Mail seemed to be casting around for words to express his anger as he said, "I...It's...it's not my fault. It can't be my fault. They did it themselves, they didn't have a reason."

That shocked his sister out of silence, she laughed sardonically, "So Mail, you think people just commit suicide because they feel like it? Oh, I didn't like my eggs this morning, I'm gonna kill myself, wah-wah." She laughed her awful sarcastic laugh again, "Mum and Dad weren't idiots. They had a reason for killing themselves. And I know that you know it was you...it had to have been you."

"NO!" the boy screamed and tackled her to the ground.

He was smaller then her, but the shear force of his anger was enough to keep her down for a few moments before she had him flipped and pinned to the ground. Her hands were around his wrists, holding his arms down. In another dimension, it might have been romantic.

The two pale, tear-stained faces gazed into each other, each holding and judging the other. One would expect that normal children would, at this point, break apart and not be able to stare at each other so seriously any longer. But the two were enclosed in their own special bubble of melodrama.

The 11-year-old broke first, his anger changing to desperate grief and panic as his sister continued to sit upon him. The 15-year old stayed on top of him, pinning him to the carpeted floor, her rage still solid and cold, devoid of any sign of remembrance that this was her brother. Mail could have been an ant Anna was preparing to burn for all the affection displayed in her face.

She dug her nails into the sides of his wrists and a few new tears ran down the boy's face as he stared up at her stony face, "Anna? Please, it can be my fault if you want!" his voice cracked and more tears flowed freely down his pale face.

No response.

Mail bit his lips, trying not to cry out as her nails drew blood, "Please stop. I--it--it's all my fault..." he whispered.

"You're pathetic." Replied Anna, with all the spite and hatred she could muster.

She pressed her nails into his wrists a little deeper and dug nearly through to the bone. Mail gave a little scream, and as Melody stepped off him, he curled into a ball around his injured hands, blood staining his shirt.

"You'll die for them Mail." Anna's face was totally blank, her rage hidden carefully beneath stone, "I swear."

Mail looked at her with fear and struggled to do the same, to hide as she did. It seemed so pertinent that he be able to. But tears were still streaming sown his face as the door opened on their scene.

Through the door stepped the group's lawyer and an older man, a gentleman. The lawyer gazed around like this had been what he was expecting to see, the older man, however, looked horrified.

The three were quite a scene.

Mail was curled on the floor his shirt and the carpet around his a crimson to match his hair. He met the eyes of the men with a frightened look in his tear-filled sea-green eyes. He looked embarrassed to be crying, and as the lawyer closed the door, he seemed to be trying to hide his blood.

Melody was perched on Anna's forsaken chair with blue eyes wide and innocent and her legs tucked under her. The tip of her index finger was pressed against her lips, and it was obvious she had just turned from watching the scene between her brother and sister.

Anna stood, taller and thinner then either of the men, as if she too, had expected this entrance. Her brother's blood was still fresh on her hands and her strawberry blonde hair fell in perfect silky curtains as, like a queen, she asked the lawyer, "Who is he?"

"Uhhhh...this," their lawyer, who had looked as though he were about to comment on the scene he and the other man had walked in on, "Is Mr. ...Roger?"

With the mention of the name he turned with a question in his eyes to the gentleman and with a curt nod the man confirmed that yes, he was indeed "Mr. Roger". Mr. Roger's eyes however, were flickering from Anna to Mail in a strange and horrific mixture of rage and pity.

The lawyer spoke again, "He's come to take you to his school...Wammy's House."

At this the gentleman spoke, his voice was deep, and he had an English accent, "I'm sorry, I don't think the eldest will be able to come. Just Mail and Melody." He sounded firm and angry.

Anna's black eyes filled rage and her hair fell around her face, highlighting her savage profile. Her bloody hands tensed to claws, and she asked fiercely, "Why not?!"

Mail's mind was already inflating with a little hope. He was going away from Anna. The fear in his eyes lessened a bit, and the boy forgot the pain in his wrists. He glanced at his sadistic sister and was surprised that her eyes were there to meet his. The obsidian marbles narrowed, the sea-green gems widened, and Anna leapt.

Their bodies crashed together and legs tangled, kicking, Anna's bloody hands wrapping around Mail's pale throat. He gasped for air and despite his wounded wrists scrabbled at her crushing hands for release.

Her eyes would not release his.


End file.
